Armatae Draconis
by Donrocs1
Summary: AU. Ripped from a dimension of hardship, and thrown into a new one, Rune, a human brought into a Draconic series of conflicts, pays a price for his better recognition as a hero, social status. That price, is WAR. Beside his comrades, Rune battles the enemies of good, losing pieces of his inner-accord all along the way.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1.

Moonfall.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_PRAESENS._

Maybe once, amid the smoke of clouded memories, I could suffer the pitiful excuses of ignorance when it came to this matter.

Maybe once, I was a calmed, peaceful being of no-less than baptized purity.

Maybe once, I could be called HUMAN.

No longer did the shackles of morality bar my soul down to a drunken state of blindness of the world, shade my vision with mirages that betrayed the true extent of the violence. I had old opinions on the matter of this... EXISTENCE... Coming to terms with a clean slate, and absence of my old home.

Then, the recollections of the ridiculing, the casting-out, the DISGUIST...

Nay... I did not MISS that place.

I did not fall to frail knees, and beg the divine creator of life, whose identity is now blurred, for any form of forgiveness. I protected, and I hunted.

The only difference was, the first was innocent, the latter was not.

War was a part of my life, my young, practically quarter-spent cycle. I killed any that attempted to break peace, and any protecting them. It was a sheer fact of attrition.

I slew, to keep others alive.

MURDER.

Sure, you could argue it was murder. Personally, my own borders of unjust butchering, and the necessary stealing of a corrupted soul, were quite melded. I didn't understand sometimes the deepened feeling of dread I experienced whenever I was in that air-transport...

Piloting that armored vehicle...

Standing alongside brothers under a hail of gunfire, and adding to their returned fury with my own weapon...

Maybe once, I was a youngling, a BOY sucked into the whirlpool of a screwed up, hellish, and battering situation that had NO right to abduct me...

Who am I kidding?

I've tried praying.

I've tried acts of self-cleansing and meditation.

I've even tried extinguishing my sins through my damned conjugal privileges...

These all met some form of barrier, a literal bar that kept me from attaining happiness. In order, each of the solutions was shot from the sky of my hopeful mind...

Where was my god? I had no conception of a heavenly presence anymore in an entirely different world, with entirely different beliefs...

How could utter silence and breathing possibly repair the damage done by my sights, actions and memories? FORTY-SIX, it was the exact number of techniques and strategies, from all over the land that I had tried.

And, after awhile, sex felt just as wrong as my military career...

After all, what right did I have to violate the body of HER, anyway?

That tidbit was possibly the biggest thing that jolted me from these conjurations of a nightmare, for, at that second, amid the blackness of my difficult sleep, I saw it.

I saw, ALL OF IT.

The faces of my rivals before death. The blossoms of fire and soot of constructions, both vehicular and building that collapsed under a heavy weapon I HELD. The blood. The destruction. The HATE.

All of it bred, under ME.

I couldn't even... By god... I couldn't stifle that-that... SCREAM.

It was a conglomerate of sounds, it was the curtailing release of fearful vocals, the agony-induced cry of loss, and all of that blended with a vicious cry of war against a group of foes.

The sheets about my sealed head flew aside, the thin warmth that drew across my chest was thrown off, and my bare skin glistened in the dastardly, near mocking moonlight that trailed through a nearby window.

I heaved. I coughed, and I hacked.

I couldn't breathe.

Then, I came to realize, that the heat next to me, had returned to embrace me for half of my episode.

Up until this point, I heard NOTHING but white-noise, my emotions clouded any recognition of senses around me, and my thin breast rose up and down with shaking quickness. I tried to raise my right arm, and took note that THAT was the limb caught under the stomach of the heated body attempting to soothe me.

Gradually, as my ears stopped their lack of cooperation, I heard it...

I heard HER.

Now I felt the wetness, the trailing beads of glistening lawfulness that traced down my shoulder, and mingled with my obscenely vast sweat. I felt the elongated snout pressed to the flesh there, and the soft, mesmerizingly textured scales that lacked care for my perspiration.

I noted the sobs of helplessness emitting from her, the quake that rocked her form.

She knew there was NOTHING possible within her power to aid me, and this pit that burned into her gut was draining her, so much to the point, that whenever I sat bolt upright from a terror of my rest, THIS was all she could do.

Her shedding of tears was the one thing that reminded me, someone gave a care for me in THAT sort of way in my dark life.

I exhaled a last time, and I used my left palm to wipe the moistness from my forehead, leaning into her for more support physically than I needed. I felt all five of her appendages encircle me, her legs by my own, arms draped about my torso, and tail curling over my hips.

I looked over to my side, and I dug my nose to the set of horns atop her head, I took in her scent, and my eyes snapped shut.

Perhaps, the natural smell of her was one of my few reasons to calm down.

I freed my one arm, and I pulled her into me.

The blue and gray sheets that obscured our lower halves crinkled and shifted as I rocked her back and forth, my silent way of apologizing for... THIS.

I took heed with both half-hearted pride, and anger, that I myself didn't cry. I felt like I should have.

This was happening more and more frequently, and I wondered why she of all beings, was STILL with me.

I tried to speak when all I heard were sniffles on her part, but my throat cracked, and I just wound up hiccupping. She grew totally silent afterwards, knowledge I was attempting this reaching her.

Up until now, her eyes were snapped shut, and I reared my head back slightly to gaze at her.

The six horns, perfectly white, three jutting from each side of her elongated head, shown brilliantly in the moon's glow from the windows, and stood out among the black, unseen background of the rest of the room.

The large, thin structures folded at her back, twitched when I ran a set of fingers over them.

"S-Sorry..." I chuckled stupidly.

I felt her body vibrate a little, and I could tell she was forcing a laugh.

"Its alright." She muttered. "I'm here either way."

"It shouldn't be that." I growled.

"-Like I said. I hate repeating myself, human."

She only referred to me as that whenever she was annoyed or musing. I decided she was getting a combination of the two.

"Why do you put up with this?" I suddenly blurted out. "It's not exactly pleasing to wake you up every night."

"You'll fix it. You always do."

"And you're going to sacrifice time and health until that happens?"

"Mmhmm."

I fell silent. Maybe it was because I couldn't argue with that, or maybe, it was just that my undying loyalty to this woman held me back from continuing an unwanted debate.

All in all, the Dragoness was an outcast of her own society, at least I didn't have to deal with my past world anymore. The beings here saw me as alien, no doubt, but a savior as well. It was a double-edged sword that pricked me with its sharp point every day, and I couldn't bare it much longer that she was suffering beside me.

I saw her open her eyes for the first time since she had risen beside me. They were two, purple/red colored centers, surrounded by pure white, and centered with shining onyx.

I never forgot to lose myself in them whenever I gazed.

She smiled, her snout tear-stained.

"I'm not letting my one chance at companionship go. Not for a little lack-of sleep..."

I grinned, and I could discern her smooth, scaled muzzle locking with my smaller, thin lips. Though it was broken rather quickly, I remembered many things after it had occurred, like memories being injected via syringe into my mind.

Kissing her reminded me of that fated travel, and even the smart-aleck remarks of my companions, my comrades and brothers who all had aided me in this debacle of hell.

However, the soldiers, pilots and mechanics of my faction would never compare in the amount of comfort this Dragoness had given me.

The room seemed to focus into my vision as I stared ahead, the luxurious furniture that sat idle about the corners and sides, watched without comment. The great, sparkling shades that draped over the three, large windows in the chambers glistened aqua and purple in the sheen of the moon.

Around this, nighttime hugged it in a aura of darkness.

"How long... Do you think?" I asked.

She raised a brow at me, and I could tell she had no idea what I was inquiring too.

"How long can we conceal this? How long can we endure?"

"Don't worry about that." She snapped. "Concentrate on relieving yourself of your less-desirable emotions. We'll take this a step at a time."

She playfully pushed me a little. It relieved me of some dread in my system.

"Do you think I care what the kingdoms, armies and factions assume?"

"No." I laughed. "I understand you too well..."

She snickered, and pushed on me until I lay to my back.

"You claim knowledge of my mind," She deviously grinned, throwing her legs over me, and effectively straddling. "-But what of my body?"

"Every nook and cranny." I joked.

I saw her mouth-line twist in quite a provocative way, a slippery agent, her tongue, swishing about the scales there. Her thick, curvaceous hips swayed about my thin ones.

"Prove it." She hummed. "I could use some exhaustion to help me sleep... Human."

I took hold of her, and said a final statement before I initiated the activity that would wind up consuming an hour more of my night.

"You can be really confusing sometimes, princess."

"They didn't call me the Terror of The Skies for nothing..."

-0-0-0-0-0-


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2.

Transaction.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_PRAETERITA_

On the lightest of drums throughout the hold could I only decipher the life being flowed through the craft's engine.

It was a sort of muffling, like a loud beast stifled with an oversized muzzle. The leash that the ship would have been pulling amid a rant would surely not allow it to perform the missions it was designed for without the stealth technology.

Though, even with this, I debated why my allies had chosen this of all equipment to transport us.

Not that I complained, never. I was always recognized for the lack of unneeded whining. And I was also given due notice for when the situation REQUIRED bitching.

That processed in my mind for a while, and I was jolted from it when the engines began to hiss.

"Sounds good," I heard next to me. "Finally, we're landing."

I deceived with a frown.

"You noticed? You seem to be less... Perceptive, as of late."

I didn't glance over the thick layers of armor that obscured my body to the male next to me. Though, without sight, I could tell he was glaring daggers at me.

"Really now? What makes you drabble THAT one off?"

"Well, not ONLY the incident at Fire Lake." I mocked, recalling a past engagement he'd served with alongside me.

"-Hey, don't count that," He warned. "-I can't really help it when a heavy shell smacks off my shoulder, and I lose my aim with a rifle."

"But you could have helped it when you pulled the trigger, AFTER you recoiled, and pumped a round into my helmet."

Oh yes, generalized musings of the best grunts in the military of his people. My own memory displayed in perfect detail an unforgettable situation that had rendered my first head-piece useless after it saved me from his ammo.

The thing particularly nasty about that, was my current situation when it had happened.

You know, being locked in hand-to-hand combat with an Orc, THEN getting shot in the head can have its... Problems.

For a moment, I thought my companion wouldn't respond.

"Shut up..." He finally dislodged.

"-So that's the first strike," I picked up from last. "Then, you had this habit of loosing grenades for awhile..."

"-Damn it." He grunted. "You REALLY can't count that scene either."

"I can and WILL." I chuckled. "Throwing explosives in a allied occupied bunker is pretty stupid."

"I THOUGHT you were a fragging gun-nest!" He defended, lacking care when his armor shifted in the swaying of the craft's movement outside.

I didn't answer in my joy of chuckles, having gotten my fill from his reaction, I reached up with a gauntlet to snap my visor shut. Similarly, my modified suit whined on servo-gears as I stood to my full height, and I saw the elongated bubble that acted as his head-protection cover his purple-scaled head.

"Buddy or not, brother," He said. "-You really know how to PISS ME OFF."

"What are friend's for, Spy?"

"I dunno, Rune,"

I heard a clack as the Dragon's large, clawed gauntlet snatched hold of the hulking, blocky rifle that was magnetically slung on his right hip plate.

"-Maybe they were created for wyrms like me."

I laughed, LOUDLY, in my armor's depths, and drew my own rifle to bear across my jutting breastplate. Twin clamps of steel and synthetics were heard amid our loading.

"Now THAT, was funny, Spyro."

The purple Dragon's large, muscular tail snapped behind him, and the bays of the ship hissed compressed air, before they slid aside with whining circuitry.

Sunlight flooded into the holding bay, and I was un-phased as my visor absorbed any harmful glares, and we were met with the ground view of outside. He furthered his silence when twin, heavy boots clunked down the extended ramp on the dropcraft.

Spyro's cyber-meshed wings flicked behind him in agitation to my badgering, and I stepped after him wordlessly.

Behind me, the twin-engine ship, a MK 89 Dauntless Stealth Air-Transport, in all of its box-like structure, black-colored plating mixed with shades of blue and white; the colors of the Defense Force, quietly reignited its power-sources, and zipped away from whence it came.

Or, at least, that was what we WANTED our hosts to think.

The Dauntless would maintain a hidden position not far away, incase it had to jump in if things got ugly.

Even I, the one who was in on the whole thing, found it pretty convincing when the ship vanished in the orange, tan and yellow sky behind us, and assimilated into both the sunset and hugging valleys of tree-laden hills.

Me and Spyro stood atop a large, aerial pier, a bridge-like protrusion over an endless drop into the hills below, constructed from tan-like cobblestone.

Our boots made metal-on rock emits as we walked, surely seeing the several shadows that adhered to the end of the extension pier. They were indeed people, armed, I could tell by the extrusions by their sides in the glare of the sun.

"You see that?" I mustered a comedic tone.

"Yep. Plain as shit in a pool." Spyro muttered. "-Three years of peace, they STILL don't trust us."

We began to see detail of what exactly this pier was connected to, and the beings that stood before it. To put things lightly, the air-station that the docking piece jutted from, was alien to my views of architecture.

It was a cobblestone-like structure, gridded with rectangular buildings, and towered in places with similar-looking spires and castle heights. Its underside, a disk, was dotted with wooden and steel fans that spun to a point of blur.

Many of the rotors also topped the highest abodes on the station.

I grinned when I heard the priming of weapons.

Damn. I HATED the Skyfolk.

I really did.

"These must be the champions of the Defense Force."

The male's voice was so indignant, mortified and angry all at once, I detected dizziness in my head. The speaker was none other than a robed, loosely armor-protected Dragon, and like the rest of his kind, he was thin, REALLY thin.

The Skyfolk were an industrious, frail ethnicity of Dragons, their arms and legs were twigs, torsos narrow, and unappealing, heads serpentine and quite long, and large, paper-like wings draped over their angular shoulders and backs.

I was kind of surprised at first when I had heard the casualties they had inflicted on the Defense Force in the first years of that particular war. My first reaction was-

'We got beaten a few times, by walking STICKS?'

I had no business speaking of their highly advanced aerial and armament technology until I did battle against it.

While the Skyfolk were weak in infantry combat, both in ranged and melee, they had formidable tanks and armored vehicles.

And, so help me, they EXCELLED in air attack.

Through my experiences, many of which were leading to my depression and night terrors, I had butchered so many of their soldiers, that I kind of lost count. I discovered that in fighting them though, I had indeed saved not only the Democratic Realms from a serious invasion, but also select few portions of Avalar.

With their new government, I deemed the Skyfolk not AS crazy.

I still thought they were crazy, even without the desire to rule the known realms.

"I can't say we welcome you, warriors, but I can say we are willing to hear you." The robed Dragon spoke again, and I realized me and Spyro hadn't said a word.

I concluded this man was a diplomat, and the four soldiers around him, garbed in stone-textured plates of synthetic, and carrying guns that, much to my pity, resembled crossbows of all things, were his bodyguards.

"Good to know. Lead the way." I said.

I was to the point, and gruff, everybody on this pier knew we were not here to make pleasantries, me and the warrior beside me had arrived to keep these nations from opening fire on each other again.

The Defense Force knew it could annihilate the Skyfolk, but not without significant losses.

If that catch wasn't attached to finishing, and actually FINISHING the war with these lost souls, I would have killed every bodyguard, AND the diplomat that was before me.

Nevertheless, I controlled my anger, and took a stalking position behind my former enemies, failing to acknowledge two of the guards going to our rear, covering us with aimed guns.

The diplomat walked on, the other pair of his lackeys beside him.

I glanced at Spyro, and, despite not being able to see beneath his visor, I could tell he was grimacing.

It must have stuck to me too, because by the end of the walk, my nose kind of hurt from the crinkling.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The Defense Force of the Democratic Realms was a strong, determined army of justice. I had believed this not through propaganda, not the words of its soldiers or the citizens it protected, but of the actual, front experiences and sights I had been granted.

Truth be told, WE are not the bad-guys in these wars.

Whether in the bloody battles against the Skyfolk, the wars with the Dark Lord that Spyro had waged before me, or the terrible campaigns the Zodians had launched on us, I firmly took knowledge of this system of thinking, of fact.

The great sliding of grinding stone procured my thoughts from such prisons, and I stared as the great cobble door that led into the main area of the station slid in two, vanishing in slots at the walls around its hinges.

The diplomat and the guards ushered us in silently.

Within the station was lit by a series of lamps and chandeliers that hung in a dazzling pattern about the ceiling, pillars and pylons divided the great lobby into archways leading to other sections.

The floor was marble tile, and I recognized many manholes that dotted the walls closest above to the roof.

I held no curiosity, and I sniffed in annoyance to my own glancing, when a rotor-bladed craft, a drone, one of the many the Skyfolk had used on us, not armed, flew out a opening hatch on one of the manholes, and vanished into the depths of another ajar entry.

A second later, and the doors sealed.

I trotted in my standard, heavy armor beside Spyro, and we followed the Skyfolk team deeper into the main lobby.

In place where a tail slot and mesh would be, a flat plate covered my backside, and a shorter, astronaut-like dome took the place of a long bubble-helm the Dragons' wore. Though modified, my suit was considered more protective than any grunt or other heavy plate in the Defense Force.

Soon, I found another entry sliding aside for me and my comrade's standing forms, the entries jutted between a buttressed arch at the back of the chamber.

When the light from the other side cleared, I saw more Skyfolk than I could really process.

Workers and engineers, by the look of it, hundreds of them stopped their walks and stances about the next lobby abruptly to stare in sudden chill at us and the diplomatic team.

I felt amusement to their reaction, and through the sealed VOX link between mine and Spyro's helms, I could hear a static hiss on the other end to symbolize his own laughter. We trailed through the chamber silently, the civilians sidestepping away from us when we were nowhere near them, all talking had gone quiet.

The marble floor clacked beneath us, and I took heed to the lower ceiling here, the tan and cobblestone colors that filled the area starting to bother my eyes.

When the third set of doors that day smacked shut behind us, me and Spyro gazed about a small communications room lined with alien-looking computers and machinery.

"Not liking this..." I heard Spyro mumble into the VOX.

"Relax." Was all I answered.

"So, we know of the first champion here..." The diplomat gestured with a claw to Spyro, and shooed the guards to the back of the room with the other. They grudgingly nodded, and stood by the doors like statues.

"-Spyro. Savior of the realms, and absolute victor of many combat fields."

I rolled my eyes at the unintentional ego boost the Skyfolk was providing my nodding, mentally cackling friend.

"Though, you," He looked at me, weary, olden eyes scanning my suit. "-Your no Dragon. I assume you are this... This 'Human' we have heard so much of."

Declining my own screaming urge to stick to safety, I snapped my visor downwards, and stared with a blank expression to the Dragon.

I could see his flinch, nearly unnoticeable, at the display of such a alien sentient before him.

"-Name's Rune." I grinned on top of my prior sneer. It took the diplomat and his men a minute to take their eyes off of me, and he stepped over to a small, projection device without another word.

The three disk-like computers hummed as he switched them alive, their positions in the center of the room allowing their ambient lights to illuminate the darkness a slight aqua.

A moment passed, and I shifted on my boots, didn't put my visor down, when the three holograms spat to life, revealing to me the newest leaders of the Skyfolk meat-grinder they called a government.

The first Dragon was male, he was old, likely near his nineties, he had extensive facial hair, and was adorned with robes and two, thin plates of the stone synthetic the Skyfolk used as armor. His scales were drab-colored, and he had a neck of tan.

The second was a female, she was rather young, and had a quite bulky suit of armor on her, leaving only an un-helmed head. Blue made her hide, all over.

The third was another man, he was garbed in a series of bionic pipes and wires, synthetic stone armor plated here and there. To this, he was so extensively robotic, I could not properly tell his scale color, and his twin lens-eyes whined as they focused on me.

I shrugged at them, and realized I was looking at the Senators that ruled the new Skyfolk civilization.

I already didn't like them.

"Good to see they have arrived." The old man said, rather blankly.

"Quite..." The female sounded depressed, quite deep.

"-I thought he was taller." The last had a metallic ring in his static voice.

Whatever the case was with them, I gestured a struggling fist to my breastplate, and began to speak.

"Hello, Senators." I cringed. "With our conflicts at an end, I can appreciate your persons at a much more civil outlook. I am Rune, human soldier of the Defense Force of the Democratic Realms, and this is Spyro, second champion of our army." I held a hand to him, and he bowed his head slightly.

"We are here to confirm in person the treaty you have recently confirmed with our people."

"Humbling," The senior Dragon said, I knew sarcastically. "-I am Gaeros Hkal, new head Senator of our reformation."

"Susynth Jsad, Admiral of the New Air-Army." The female said.

"Elmact Kalk, lead engineer." The last robotically stated.

I smiled, and continued.

"I appreciate the introductions. We require two things for this gathering, and one requires vocal declarations of all of your cooperation."

They were silent, and I took it as a message to get on with it.

"Lastly, we need proof you own written copies of the treaty."

I saw with great deciphering, Gaeros' expression of sore-defeat. I got the message that these leaders had little choice but to enact peace with their long-time foes, and it radiated further from Susynth and her showing of teeth slightly.

Though, Elmact, the wires and steel made it hard to actually see his face.

Gaeros was the first to relinquish the false pride, and he gazed down for a moment, before returning with an upheld, tiny computer device; a dataslate. Its contents scrolled to review the entirety of the treaty, and after that tidbit, his claw vanished by his hip, and I heard the clicking of a switch.

Gaeros' head vanished from the projection, and the view of a internal chamber, nowhere near mine and Spyro's current location, flashed aqua on the display.

Within a massive hangar internal of steel and cobble, lay a holographic table-copy of the same treaty the Democratic Realms had pressed his people to sign. Now, the written document was important enough, to dedicate an entire holo-table to being hardcoded with the text of said document.

Gaeros appeared back, his face grimmer than before.

Susynth glowered at the whole thing, and I had my proof.

"Good to see," I had to unclench my teeth through EVERY word I spoke to them. "Now for the last phase, and we shall take our leave-"

"-Do you not see THAT as enough?"

I was slightly surprised that Susynth had barked that, and I was also amazed it had taken her that long. Prior, she had arrived at the gathering with a face of twisted contempt, and had kept it since.

Her current bearing of jaws, and the wild anger in her eyes only added to that.

"Susynth." Gaeros snapped with discipline.

"Your going to tell me, you-you-" She struggled to find words, and finished her stutter with a jabbed finger in my direction.

"-You POMPOUS son of a bitch! That not only do we have to degrade ourselves with presenting you a copy, of your filthy TREATY-!"

"SUSYNTH! ENOUGH!" Gaeros' words went unheard, and Elmact appeared amused by the whole thing, I saw his heavily plated, and pipe-netted arms fold over his breast.

"-But we also have to bend-over FURTHER, and toss away a last shred of dignity, to POUR our hearts to YOU?!"

The boiling rage that flooded my head never really was controlled on the battle field, I always used it against my foes, tempered it to magnify in my gun's barrel, or add strength to my blade.

However, at this little communications room, and amid the deepest territory of said enemy, I managed to tamper it.

Weird, huh?

"Stop." I held my left gauntlet up, bowing my head slightly. "STOP. Before something terrible happens."

I stepped closer to the display computer, the center one holding Susynth's visage. I could detect at such closeness, her heaving, and heavy rising and falling of her chest.

I took a second to observe, and I ended my trek with two clomps of steel boots on the stone floor.

"I understand."

Her jaw dropped. Not because of any form of positive, receptive emotion...

She was insulted to a point of drunken hate at my audacity.

"YOU. KNOW. NOTHING." She spat, leaning closer on whatever she stood in front of, from where she was.

"I do indeed. I am no peaceful, complete soul, and I get what it feels like to be broken-up inside, kind of like a smashed puzzle board." I laughed at my own comparison lightly.

At least with that, I had gathered all of their attentions.

Gaeros had stopped glaring at his female comrade, to raise a brow to me, and Elmact's entertainment had ended with a curious glance to my armored body.

Even the diplomat, who stood silently beside the guards by the door, took a step closer to see me better in the computers' illumination. I didn't see what Spyro was doing.

"Nobody realizes what its like to have your life changed, until you switch worlds... And NOBODY, understands the importance of people, until you see hundreds of them die in war around you. I may be asking for quite perturbing requirements for all of you, but I do so with not the desire to bleed the Skyfolk and their leaders, but with the hope to stop the death they cause and we inflict in return."

Many questions revolving around my sanity, previous person, and morality swam about in a soup-like mixture within my mind, I, out of all people in the room, was baffled by my speech to the Skyfolk.

Several weeks had passed since I last had a moment when I felt quite at peace, stability in my soul was a rare thing... And by being in company with my enemies, I had apparently achieved it again.

"I'm asking as a sentient life-form, not a Defense Force champion, for you to go along with this."

That sealed it with me and at least two of the leaders, by the end of the whole arrangement, Gaeros and Elmact had stated clearly, with less disgust than originally intended, their cooperation.

I heard the last statement from a mumbling Susynth.

When the holograms cut out, both men bowed, and were still present when the image flickered away. Susynth though, had stood from wherever she was when the projection at her end stopped.

The diplomat didn't say a word, and neither did the guards when we were ushered out of the room.

By the time my mind began to process properly again, sunlight beamed down on my exposed head, and I grumbled, snatching my visor shut, gazing back at the hulk of the station's outsides. I frowned, then came to terms with a gauntlet lightly tapping over my shoulder plating.

"Rune, what the HELL, was that?"

I sighed. Perhaps Spyro of all soldiers didn't really get the message back there.

"Necessary statements." I grunted.

For a long while down the pier as we trekked, he just stared at me, the bubble covering, and obscuring his head, jerked in my direction.

"I trust you." Was all he said before the Dauntless returned for us.

By lords did he mean it.

-0-0-0-0-0-


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3.

Unknown.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The Defense Force was composed of Dragons, ONLY Dragons.

When I had proved my prowess to utterly annihilate the enemies of good, their army had gone against every precedent, and tradition of their past, and practically offered me a position of unique rank within their military.

Throughout my entire years in the battles of hell, I had never been GIVEN an order, and I had never answered to anyone.

I was a kind of unique ally to the DF, a specter that wound through their ranks, and killed the targets that they fought to eliminate that proved the most difficult. My name before the simple title of RUNE, was long forgotten, honestly, I don't recall even my LAST name.

I had been in the known realms for much less than a quarter of my young life, and already, my past existence in the land of humans was purgatory, a thing of wives-tale and secrecy.

My form being wrapped in shadow from the varied structures abound only added to the in-depth conclusions of thought I was conjuring.

I leaned against the steels and metals of the wall behind me, not bothering to gaze upwards to the next thirty stories of sheer firepower and armored protection that made the fortress.

Bordering the lands of the Skyfolk were endless barricades of hills, and at every clearing next to these inhospitable, impassable lands, there were grids of DF fortifications.

Square-like fortresses ringed with anti-air defenses, and further encased by bunkers, ground-cannons and heavy weapons nests, all of that, topped like a sundae with tank traps and armored patrols. Even after three years after the war, this particular bastion, known collectively as Citadel 89, and yes, there were at least EIGHTY-NINE of these forts at the borders, still held an extensive gash in its metal flesh.

Drawing down the side of the Citadel, blackened, glistening in portions with paint-washed, bare silvery steel, and scorched all its length, was a scabbed wound that drew about the flank.

The entries and chambers within had been sealed via plates of scrap from the destruction, and the smashed hulk of the torn, and crashed Skyfolk bombercraft had been removed from its imbedded position at the end of the scar.

A few craters dotted among the exterior fortifications, and MORE aerial crashes left indents and skids about the surrounding land.

Citadel 89 had seen at least fifty assaults from the Old Air-Army, and as I crossed my arms over my chest, I felt bad I was only there for thirty of them.

In the recesses of many veterans' minds, the Dragons who fought under the blue and white colored-plating alongside me, days could be described with paranoia, when a single second of taking your eyes off the sky, meant that you, and others were in danger.

I could have frowned at that.

But instead, I shrugged to myself awkwardly, the bulked pads over my shoulders rolling in response. The utter dark-blue that made the colors of the suit had an amber sheen to it with the above sun, I was pretty sure I blinded a passing man for a second.

They were grunts, basic infantry of the DF, clad in smaller, more lean battle suits, and lacking domed helms. The man closest to me out of the two was taller than the guy next to him, and he winced when the reflective glare of my movement blared in his eyes.

I had become a common sight among the ranks, but I was never spared the glances and occasional stares still.

The Dragons did exactly that, before vanishing behind a parked armored vehicle, and going deeper into the refines of Citadel 89's outer defenses.

Cube-like, and adorned with two trapezoid shaped tread boxes at its sides, a spiral turret bearing a heavy cannon and machine-rifle, the Tarantula Mainline tank looked intimidating, putting aside its common numbers.

In the backdrop, around all the bunkers and nests, I saw tens of them rolling about, thundering the air in their travels.

It reminded me of things, seeing that exact type of tank.

Chuckle all you want, but when I first began to work with that purple freak, the same Dragon of prophecy that had more rocks than brains in his head, Spyro had been utter trash to me.

He alienated me as a worthless creature dumped on him by a false, and foolish command, and I treated him with similar notions.

I had been a warrior for ten years, and the first foes I did war against were not just stragglers of the Dark Army; Spyro's prior mortal combatants.

Orcs, Grublins and even Trolls never compared to the Zodians, or even the nomadic Dragons of the Northern Ices.

I stepped from my lean on the fortress.

The Zodians had probably been the worst, I assumed, after all, fighting robotic organisms who possessed the best technology in the realms, naturally resistant bionic limbs, and capable of laying down staggering firepower, had to be pretty tough.

I hadn't seen a Zodian for four years, of any type or class, and I probably wouldn't for a longer time.

They had been a major ingredient in the freakish episodes of anger and despair that deprived me from sleep commonly, and for that, coupled with obvious reasons, I hated them too.

Until further notice, the Defense Force didn't really... Well... NEED me anywhere.

I was sitting in this lifeless, fully garrisoned fortification out of free will, I realized.

That gave me an idea, and at the time, and for awhile afterwards, I didn't know how the divines had driven me with a steering wheel, like a car, into my next situation.

When I left my corner, I found my companion doing something similar to me.

We may have been heroes, and we may have been respected and honored by the men around us, but that didn't mean we were social butterflies with them.

Most of the time, outside the field, me and Spyro kept to ourselves, and found it awkward when a soldier initiated conversation with us.

The purple one still had full armor on, and he flicked a lighter of all things, in a toying motion about his right gauntlet.

I took interest, and clapped my steel-layered hands together.

"Didn't know you smoked."

I didn't know what else to say, completely.

His head sort of jolted upwards, and he was acting like he hadn't seen me coming. Those purple eyes jolted back and forth from his preoccupying trinket to me, as if not making the connection.

"I like my lungs, thanks..." He muttered a second later. "I'm not inhaling that shit."

"The lighter, then?"

"Found it."

"Where?"

He waved backwards, gauntlet flapping in the general westward direction.

"-Guess a grunt lost it."

I didn't entirely hear him, and I stared at the Rifle, and subsequent melee dagger that hung from his hip.

"I'm leaving for a bit."

"Where?"

I knew it with a grin. He was waiting for me to say that.

"Not sure. I guess a few laps down the DF highway from here could get me some fresh air."

Every fortress on the borders here had a artificial, dirt road that connected it to the Democratic Realm cities behind them, collectively called 'DF Highways' by many.

They weren't used that much now that the war was over, and that stood perfect with me.

"Why?" Spyro asked.

"Because I want to. You'll live being here for a while."

My response indirectly answered his question, and I stepped past him without another word.

Before I reached even a foot away, I heard the metallic clink of a dropped lighter, and the subsequent stomps of a wandering, annoyed Dragon.

-0-0-0-0-0-

With the consistency of wind that hurried through the branches of golden, green and tan trees, my hearing was invaded with the shuffling of millions of leaves.

It never ceased within these sections of the realms, the beauty, the natural breeze that initiated the mass whispers among the plants.

My boots kicked up dirt from the road, the blue there becoming darkened slightly with brown.

All in all, I was pretty quiet at that moment, and the jutting breastpiece of my armor emitted repeated clinks as my knuckle rapped it in a olden tune. I had only listened to music a handful of times within my stay in this world, and one of the most moving pieces I was brought to contact against, had met my ears in a Cathedral.

An awkward place, sure, but the harmonious, ridiculously talented vocals that combined from a hundred Dragon's throats at the front of the area of worship, was unforgettable.

I held no religious affiliation with the Ancients, and Ancestors, as the wyrms referred to their subjects of pray, albeit, I was more inclined to give my thanks to God.

Long had I lost images of what a church looked like back in my old world, and it seemed that since I was abducted from my home there, my cells that contained these pictures were growing smaller every day.

The clash of disturbed water mingled with the breeze, and I glanced down in thought at my now wet boot.

The dirtied steel formed a ripple-effect in the sizable pond that hugged the side of the road, and I had accidently strayed into it. With my visor down, I caught full sight of my face.

Holy hell... I sure was young for being in the position I was in. I know I've said that many times, but, actually seeing my own facial features brought it out deeper for me, I suppose. My pale skin was touched here and there with shadow, my black hair ruffled in the wind, and my greenish-blue eyes sparkled in the midday sun.

I didn't know my exact age anymore, but I had to be in my twenties, I just HAD to be.

I exhaled, and stepped back on the road silently.

My face made me think of my past name, and my past life.

When I was a child, I had been taken from my own bed to this world, taken from the days of abuse from people who shouldn't have been parents, the lack of companionship from anyone outside of my home. Many would think I was the luckiest person alive.

Besides, who the heck gets to dump a crappy life on Earth, and go fight evil as a hero in a fantastical world?

As a catch, though, who the heck gets all of that, and remains UNSCATHED?

My virulent nightmares had ripped sleep from me to the point where bags formed under my eyes, and I shook in startle whenever I was addressed in drowsiness.

My armor shifted when I rolled my thin shoulders, and I caught the sudden droning.

It was a reverberating beat, like an old audio effect you would apply in the video-editing software I owned as a child.

ENGINES.

There was a passing ship, and by the patterns it gave off, I could compare it to no DF type power sources.

I could though, give it credit for similarity to a Skyfolk aircraft.

In fact, it was identical.

Uh oh.

My gauntlet snatched up the rifle on my hip before I realized what I was doing, and the considerations of two things brought themselves up.

What was a Skyfolk ship doing this far in Democratic territory?

Why hadn't it opened fire yet? If it was hostile, anyway.

I saw the stone-looking synthetic of its hull hover mere feet above me instantly, and the twin rotors at its two wings kicked up a dust-storm around me, and further rustled the surrounding trees. I took a step back, and aimed my rifle at the cockpit, thinking that maybe, I could withstand and dodge enough firepower to get a good aim on the pilot.

However, no shots came, and the craft hummed and whistled as it lowered to the road in front of me.

I stepped back profusely when the ship touched to the dirt, and plumed a final cloud of tan. After that, the rotors slowed, then stopped. All I heard was the internal clanking of the vessel's occupant, and the hissing of cooling circuitry.

By examining the ship, I saw it was elongated, barred with two stubby wings, each topped with a propeller, steel plates mingled occasionally with the cobble-synthetic. The cab was a strange glass, and a series of rock gears on the thing's sides turned slowly.

I re-aimed my weapon when the back slammed open into a ramp.

I knew the design by this point. The grunts in the DF called them 'Wind-Basses' named for the thrumming and electronic-like beating they emitted on flying. Formally, they were titled SpeedHawks by the Skyfolk.

My visor snapped shut, and immediately, as I readied for a fight, I almost dropped my weapon when the pilot revealed himself.

Or, rather herself.

The thin, fully armored form of a Skyfolk Dragoness stood beside the vehicle, the crossbow rifle by her side remaining undrawn, and her other claw folded at her hip. The blue scales covering her head and exposed claws gave me all the confirmation to her identity.

She scrutinized me, and the thin paper wings on her shoulders and back twitched, she lowered her eyelids to my raised gun.

"I'm not here to do THAT." She said suddenly, and I recalled her deep voice.

"Ms. Jsad." I greeted awkwardly. "I hope you realize the diplomatic laws your practically pissing on right now."

I heard her rumble a laugh, and she held her claws up in slight surrender.

"I'm not shooting, am I?"

"Your trespassing."

"I trust you will keep quiet about that."

I raised a brow, though, I did indeed lower my rifle, and clamp it back to my hip. Her tone gave away something, OTHER than a threat.

"Why is that?"

Susynth smiled at me, and she stepped closer to the nose of the SpeedHawk, examining her ship for a second, she didn't turn to me when she spoke again.

"I apologize for my outburst back in the communications chamber, Rune."

I flinched at her saying my name.

"Like you said, though, you DO understand."

I wasn't sure if this woman was getting at something, trying to covertly get my guard down to then kill me, or, if she was just crazy.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I was patrolling that fortress for a whole half-hour before you finally decided to go for a walk," She pointed out. "-I can't completely reveal myself to your allies and ask for an appointment, now can I?"

None of this was making sense to me, and I tilted my head in curiosity.

"Are you insane, or something?"

"A lot of questions for a stoic man," She chuckled. "-No, I'm not CRAZY. I have questions."

That was a strange thing for the Skyfolk to say, and I ravaged the internals of my brain in an attempt to figure out, what would possess someone to break the law because they wanted to interview a former enemy?

I shook my head.

"What questions?"

Her next look held an element akin to both reminiscence, and boldness. She stroked a claw, covered in a synthetic gauntlet, down the nose of her SpeedHawk.

"What ARE you?"

"I'm human." I answered quickly.

"Yes, but... WHAT ARE humans?"

I could have explained our theory of evolution, small bits of my past society I could recall, our advanced technology at the time of my abduction...

So, all the while being unsure of why, I DID.

Through the talk, she leaned back against the craft, her eyes lowered, and she folded her armored arms over her breastplate. As much as my ego wouldn't see it, she listened a bit TOO much for her own good.

"Susynth," I grunted the second my speech ended. "-I'm asking again. WHY are you here?"

The Dragoness stared at the road for a second, and she toyed her claw in front of her face, back pressed to the front of the SpeedHawk.

"I've spent my entire life in the military. I went from battling on the front lines as a Air-Troop, to a pilot, and then a Officer," I heard amusement in her tone. "When I was appointed Admiral of the New Air-Army, I was honored at first..."

"But then you gathered the TRUTH." I said. "-So you come to ME for counseling?"

"I was chosen because every other Officer and commander that held better skill or rank than me, had perished in the war with the DF. I was a last resort."

Sympathy held in me briefly, I really did encounter the scarcity of that blasted understanding I previously had for the Skyfolk, it magnified, and then concentrated in a single beam on Susynth. I didn't speak, and I looked ahead without thought.

"My point is," She sighed. "I know what you claim to be experiencing... The slow chipping of your person. There aren't many Dragons I can say that too... If any."

I blinked, taking my turn to cross my arms over my chest armor.

"Yet, you CAN say it to a DF champion? Much less a unique creature?"

Susynth took her eyes off the dusty road below for the first time in this batch of words. Her grin was unmatched in its shining white, and her blue scales radiated further sunlight above.

"My kin haven't influenced me to a certain point, Rune. I'm willing to know any being that I can relate too."

Whether my intrigue, foolishness, or my emotions clouding my judgment influenced me, it became a habit, that road. The next few days saw my sudden interest in nature-observing strolls down the DF Highway from Citadel 89.

I met Susynth on that path of dirt the next day.

The day after that.

And the day after that.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_PRAESENS_

Beauty was something aloof to me back in my past life, and for the longest time in my new one. I didn't experience awe in the middle of the great forests, rivers and oceans that blessed the realms, mostly because I was always getting shot at while I was in them.

Yet, until the prior grouping of weeks, I was given not only the parting of my vast depression, inner sanctum among a wondrous, physical estate that surrounded me, and the tenderness of a woman...

I was given a second chance here.

I had gone days without my armor or weapons to my body before this, but now, I was going a MONTH without them.

The other night, I had tried on the left shoulder pad of my heavy suit, wired the appropriate weight suspension, and applied it perfectly, and yet, it felt as alien as ever to wear it.

I rolled my left joint instinctively at such a memory, and I tugged lightly at the delicate claw in my palm as a result.

When I felt those happy, curious mixtures of red and purple, orbed by white and centered with night turn to me, I didn't stifle my smile. She mimicked my expression, and leaned her head into my arm, angling herself against me.

The jumpsuit I wore compared nothing to the vibrant wisps of near-translucent white that fluttered and layered over her body, the dress shined silver in the above sunlight, and parted in the most delicate of areas and manners.

Much of her chest and shoulders were exposed, the top half of the silken apparel held via straps that formed vertically-flipped V's over her neck and breast-line, and crossed over the separation of her collar bones.

Her tail escaped through a opening towards her rear, which, much to my torture, revealed a bit of her sumptuous backside.

Her wings and back-arch were bare, and I couldn't help the mesmerized stare I had enacted on her more than once today.

The fine sandal-like covers about her claws were near silent in comparison to the rubber-like material of my suit's heels as we walked on the stone path. It was a gray colored way, trekking around the endless sea of trees and thickets that formed an ocean of obscurity around her home.

The sky was fairly blue, and held little ways in clouds.

"Your very quiet." She stated with a smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so." I sheepishly said. "I'm feeling better."

I think she got a bit giddy at me stating that, and she hummed appreciatively into my arm. The bladed-end of her tail swished behind her happily.

"Rune," She began, and I kind of appreciated it when I heard my name spoken with such liking from her vocals. "About what you said, with being able to conceal ourselves... Do we really have to worry about it?"

"I don't know. I'm just afraid of how the realms might react to a champion of the DF being mated to a former enemy of Dragon-kind."

I saw her damped a little, and she frowned up at me.

"I never said I think of you that way. I never will."

She resumed her grin. "I get it."

I cast my vision over to her, seeing how I was only a few inches taller than her, the whole being HUMAN thing didn't allow me to tower.

She was indeed, for a hated being in the realms, beautiful by every aspect, and I could never understand why the populace didn't attempt to know the facts before exiling such a wondrous wyrm. Soon, she noticed me observing, and she began to snicker, looking away in mortification.

"Would you stop staring!" She mused.

"Its kind of hard when you're walking next to the most interesting artwork in the world to NOT stare."

The red that invaded her cheek-bones was fire-engine, and she stifled the resulting, childish, giggling spree with her other claw. I couldn't get enough of making her happy, and it was a reason to get my hopes up in my new life.

The trees seemed to hiss and whisper about us in the new breeze, making the view of the towering structure to our rear harder to see.

My stay at her abode revolved around that spire, it was an olden medieval structure, built long before the modern technology that covered the realms by a forgotten tribal faction. That tiny federation of villages would inevitably become one of the precursors for the Democratic Realms.

Technically, it was in DF territory, but, being this far at the borderzones for the Northern Ices, the military I fought for saw it no better a place than to imprison the woman next to me. Once, before I was even here, she had been the leader of the Dark Army under the Dark Lord.

Only through the efforts of her own desire to be free, and Spyro's forces, did she aid the DF in eventually overthrowing that vile kingdom.

For this reason alone did she hold contempt for my brother at arms, for, once Spyro had promised her an equal life among the citizens of the realms, and was never able to keep it.

Instead, much to her agony, the various generals, champions and sergeants in the Defense Force saw it fit with no quarrel, that the former Terror of the Skies be exiled to this forsaken ruin, and it was here, that she had spent at least fifteen years.

Throughout that time, the regret, the depression and anger boiled to a point of permanent scarring within her conscience, and she had just barely recovered herself from an unbreakable, evil end by working on meager odd-jobs about the property.

According to her, three of those years had been spent in a useless state before she began to realize all hope wasn't gone.

For awhile, she rejuvenated the flora in the area, using negatives of her powers over shadow and poison. Then, it progressed to minor repairs on the spire, sealing walls, construction projects she used her abilities of magic solely to perform.

Over time, these efforts had earned her a place of obscenely vast decadence, it was no longer an ugly, abandoned and forlorn ruin.

Though, among such beauty, she had no one to share it with, and she regressed once the land was completely rebuilt.

Then of course, I came in.

When we had first encountered each other, well, things were ugly, and it was by miracle that I was able to talk sense with her, and prove I was not a combatant here to kill her.

It wasn't long into our socialization and collection of knowledge on the other, that things became intimate.

I was flattered, touched that on many given nights, she practically couldn't keep her claws off me, and it gave me a flustering feeling of good, that someone other than myself cared.

I began to speak to her again, squeezing her claw in my hand a bit.

"Princess..." I tried. It gained her attention, and she looked up at me with a hint of seriousness. "-W-What if you could... Could come with me?"

I had refrained from asking this for a long time, and I did so knowing the answer I would get. Though, I was decently surprised when she was silent.

I saw pain in her eyes, and I picked up on the longing too.

"Rune..." She blurted.

"I'm sorry. I'm making this harder for you-"

"NO." She cut me off. "No, its not that... Not ALL of it."

I stopped walking, and she did as well. Before I knew it, her claws had taken up my palms, and I leaned down lower, to the point where I bent forwards, and she pressed her forehead to mine. Her soft scales tickled my hair, and caressed my skin. She blinked to me, slowly, tortoise like.

"I've spent half of my life here... I MADE all of this. It's my masterpiece and savior. I don't know if I can just... Leave. If I can ABANDON it."

I understood, and didn't at the same time.

Either way, I nodded.

"I guess I'll just have to stay longer."

She was so happy, that her eyes glazed in bliss, wetness began to form at their lower sections and corners.

"But... What of the Defense Force?"

"They can wait a little while longer."

My lips melded with her chops, and she shut her eyes closed, and her perfect arms hung over my shoulders.

All the while, I was frightened by what I had said, and that made this action all the less invigorating for me.

In all realism, could the DF, could the REALMS, wait for me a little longer?

-0-0-0-0-0-


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4.

Politics.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_PRAETERITA_

He had always been a muscular guy in my opinion.

His body was a steel skeleton layered over with slabs of brute lead, that acted as flesh, and coated in a jacket of impenetrable, dagger-like purple scales.

The curved horns of gold that protruded from his head acted beside the similarly colored, leaf-symbolizing tail tip, and abdomen and center chest.

Spyro was decently a bit bigger than me, but both of us knew the lack of intimidation I experienced around him, not of course, that he needed or felt to test it.

When I walked out of the tiled room, I glared for a short second at the jumpsuit covering his legs and hips, thin, compared to the rest of his built torso. Steam had colluded half the chamber, and the rubber shorts I wore were beginning to grow a tad uncomfortable in the scene.

His wings twitched, and he raised a brow.

"What?" He growled. I just smiled like an idiot. "My ass is THAT toned, huh?" He smirked.

"Pfft," My dismissive wave of my hand emitted a toothy grin from the Dragon, and he threw the towel he'd been holding over his jutting shoulder.

"-Get your hopes up, and earn a red-mark on your face in the next tavern." I pointed out. "Champion or not."

He rolled his eyes, and stood over the jutting tiles of the sinks again.

This deep in the basement level of the Citadel was home to the hygiene wards for the garrison here, and this water room was no exception in the general mist that blocked you from seeing your hand in your face at times.

I tested that theory to be sure, and was relieved when the wrinkled digits of my palm barreled through the blurriness. Guess it WASN'T a blind day today.

As I wiped my hair out with a cloth I snatched from the rack Spyro stood next to, I stepped back over to the sinks, and leaned over them to gaze at the glass atop it.

My own reflection emitted a toned-down reaction from me, similar to the one I had gotten when I stepped in that puddle by the road a week ago, and the fact of my sideline visits burst into my head.

I probably was going to be late for that today.

I stood straight, and went to walk for the exit arch into the halls beyond, when, I felt a wet, five fingered claw snatch to my bare shoulder, hard. I didn't wince at the slight pain from his gruffness, but I did glare at Spyro with a raised brow.

"Yeeessss?" I drew out.

"Going for your walk?"

Personally, I didn't like the way he sounded, and I laid a hand over the back of his. A second later, it fell from my arm, and back to his waist.

"Yeah, I AM."

"Remember in the Dauntless, when I said, and I quote, 'I trust you' ?" He said. "Rune, what are you REALLY doing?"

I was surprised it took him this long to react accordingly, and I couldn't reveal my chats with Susynth to a loyal, and near order DEDICATED champion of the DF. Even though he was my friend, my battle brother, I did the closest to good thing I could decipher.

I lied.

"Strolling in a pretty section of trees, whistling folk-songs, jerk." I chuckled.

Spyro didn't buy it, not ANY of it, and he supported his precedent of trust further by smirking, and stepping out of the chamber around me. I glowered at the arch he'd vanished behind, wiped the towel through my hair again, and tossed it in the cleaning shoot, centered in the white tiles.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The road seemed quieter today, and I walked down it in full clad heavy suit, the servos internal my armor clacking and clicking.

My visor was up, and my head searched the surrounding clearing for any sign of the SpeedHawk I'd actually learned every detail of. At one of our visits, Susynth had showed me the inside of the craft, its stone-like interior lit by wall-mounted lamps, and gridded with computers and steel plates.

The control panel was centered with rock-looking sticks that acted to pilot the thing, and nested with glyphs and switches.

It was certainly different than any DF craft I'd been in.

The bass-beat rung in my ears seconds later, and as the craft lowered in front of me, I stopped, gauntlets lazed by my hips, I waved awkwardly once the propellers had silenced, and the clamor of the pilot sounded.

The rear ramp extended, and the Dragoness emerged in her usual full suit of armor.

I smiled, and rapped a fist to my breastplate.

"Susynth." I greeted.

"A little late, are we?" She chuckled.

"Sorry, held up in the fort."

"No big deal. I brought something interesting anyway."

I hadn't had conversations this good in a LONG time, so naturally, I was pretty excited myself to see what my new friend had tagged with her. The Skyfolk walked back inside the SpeedHawk, clambered with what sounded like a compartment, and returned.

In her claws, a small dagger was held. It was exquisitely carved to resemble a slight hook, and engraved with alien symbols that resembled oriental writing, its handle was a pure black, with silver lines on the grasping area.

"A wondrous piece of art no doubt." I stated.

"T'is a family heirloom, I was given this by my father." She held it quite delicately in her outstretched claws, and offered it to me to look closer.

I didn't attempt to take hold of it, my gauntlets being a bit big and powerful, instead, I bent slightly to eye it with interest.

"Its not Skyfolk in origin." I said.

"No, your right. My father was a merchant, he was traded this in the Western Isles from the people there."

The Western Isles were probably the most peaceful land-masses in the realms right now, and they had the economy and artisanship to mark it.

I nodded, impressed.

"Most intricate."

Susynth cocked her head, and had long put it back where it came from before rejoining me on the road.

"Rune, how often do you talk to people, like, CONVERSATIONS?"

I guess I hadn't reacted properly during her showing.

"Not often." I admitted.

"You show it. Why don't you try to initiate some word-flow?" I took heed of her brighter toned voice, it was no longer deepened and dull, like it had been in that communications room when I was first chatting to her hologram.

Not that I was insulted by her statement or suggestion, I replied with a curt shake of my head, as I had heard this from many soldiers before her.

"I'm not as skilled with charisma as a gun, Susynth."

"I've noticed."

Out of all the things I had discussed with this Dragoness, subjects of lifestyle, home culture, and hobbies, this was the most uncomforting of them. Over the course of the week, I had grown to see her as a friend, and my trust had been earned slightly.

But with this, I berated myself still from simply chatting up a storm with her.

As usual, something held me back from true satisfaction with the situation.

"So how are you?" I tried. It was weak, but it would suffice.

She had an expression of progress on her face, and smiled.

"I'm well, being preoccupied for most of the day, and all." I think she had forgotten whom she was telling this too. Discerning tints of dark blue were evident on the sides of her muzzle, and knowledge of my lacking understanding hit her.

"What about you?" She quickly asked.

"Good?" I asked and stated at once. She shook her head in affirmation.

I guess that was a right answer then.

"Have you heard about the North?" She suddenly quizzed.

"The Ices?"

"Yep."

"What about them?"

Susynth gestured to the exact compass direction those blasted, frozen wastelands lay towards with her finger, and frowned up at me.

"Damned nomads are attacking our rigs up there."

I rolled my eyes when I was sure she wouldn't notice. THAT, was not my problem, and neither was it the DF's, not to mention, I had no right, nor desire to start ANOTHER war with the Snow-Huns. This news gave me reason to feel sympathy for Susynth only, and lack of care for the Skyfolk in general.

The Democratic Realms always had intelligence pointing towards the tens of mining rigs that the New Air-Army had constructed in the North, where the towering, cobblestone-synthetic structures sucked petrol and crude out by the gallons hourly.

I didn't comment at first, and I just tried to let the subject go.

My meeting parted shortly afterward, and I caught her gazing at my back a bit longer than usual when I was trotting away, I didn't turn, and I heard the ramp seal, the beating of the SpeedHawk's engines.

The craft vanished in the direction of her civilization with expedience, and I was left to walk to the Citadel in silence.

-0-0-0-0-0-

My mattress was a mess by that point, the sheets had been thrown in every direction, and the cushions tossed aside.

As per every episode I dealt with at night, my body was drenched in sweat, and I sat silently in a chair, by the small, metal nightstand in the corner of the chamber, sipping a mug of caffeine idly. Midnight struck a coupling of minutes later, and I just stared at the wall of my quarters, not really caring.

The caffeine was cold, and it didn't bother me, my small take-ins giving me maybe a few drops per tip of the cup.

My half-naked form was half alight in the small fixture I had turned on in the back of the room, it was of small hope on my part, that the remaining darkness would tire me. I suppose I was wrong.

I managed another gulp, before I heard the clicking of a code being entered on a door-lock, and the entry to my room sliding open, clawed feet following. I sighed in annoyance, and didn't turn when I heard my bed shift under weight.

Me and him sat quieter than fearful mice for... Well, I lost track of time.

Finally, he took initiative.

"How long?" He inquired to my current stance.

"Maybe an hour." I croaked.

"Mmm."

Spyro's purple torso was partially lit as well, except, his wasn't soaked like mine, and was slightly bigger.

He bowed his head, and scratched behind his neck.

"What do you want, man?" I grumbled.

His eyes traced, and then lowered again with his snout.

"You're not yourself lately. Maybe these fragging 'Walks' have come to play?"

I smiled with insult, and leaned back into the little folding chair I sat in, making it creak.

"You mean, I'm not reclusive anymore? Yeah. Yeah I kind of noticed."

Spyro ignored my attitude, and folded his claws between his knees.

"Rune, I respect you. We've known each other for years, fought and bled beside the other. I'm not trying to be an insensitive douche here, I want to know what's wrong."

"Spyro, I respect you TOO. We've known each other for years, and out of ALL of them, I've said that I have some EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS." I started to bark at the end of that sentence. The chair jerked when I spun to face him, his expression growing to slight alarm at my tired, sorry looking state.

"I've had a pretty MESSED UP life. In case you haven't noticed, brother. The last thing I NEED, is for 'Mr. Prophecy-Goody-Freaking-Two-Shoes' to lecture me on how he wants to HELP. Friend, comrade or NOT, Spyro, your suspicion, is PISSING ME OFF."

I knew him well enough that when I let anger control my words, he would not do the same, and the man would in some strategy try to point out the positives, and wrong-doings on either the truly mistaken party, or both when it needed distribution.

When I turned back to my mug, I smiled at the situation playing out, EXACTLY as I had predicted.

"I get it. I really get it, Rune. Living can be... It can really be a BITCH sometimes, I know. Look, there's no speaking from experience on my part with your hardships, but, from what I have heard of humans, they're pretty adept at putting aside the past.

So, reliving your prior mistakes and needed actions isn't going to stop these attacks your having, and neither will alienating the people attempting to help you..." He stopped for a second, and my smile kept on splaying across my face.

"-And I need to follow some of that too."

The chair I was in squeaked again, and Spyro didn't even glance up at me as I stared with awe at him. I was grinning inanely, and I rolled my arm over the back of the seat.

"You really compared yourself to a 'Insensitive douche'?"

My words set in.

The chamber filled with two throats barking laughter, and Spyro fell back on my mattress with a claw covering his heaving chest, myself, collapsing over the back of my chair.

I gave him a thumbs up when he sat upright again, and grabbed a second mug from the nightstand, poured half of my cup's contents in it, and handed it to him.

Even after the rare humor and happiness I got from that night, I still felt a tinge of guilt when he left in the morning.

He'd forgotten to inquire to my walks again.

-0-0-0-0-0-

They had stationed her.

By the great clouds above, she had been garrisoned in the very area she dreaded the most.

Whipping wind, flashing atmosphere, and screaming currents were all that filled her hearing, the synthetics around her rumbling under the duress of the elements.

Much to her dismay, she hadn't even been able to tell Rune of her departure, her travel to an ironically mentioned area of cold.

Susynth frowned behind her helmet, and decided, that maybe this was the divines' ways of intercepting a bad situation, perhaps, it really WAS a stupid decision to befriend the DF human champion.

She considered this, and never came to a conclusion.

_"Squadron 1? You got me over there?"_

Her helm burst with the static voice of the flight commander, and she tapped the side of her VOX to receive.

"Got you Squadron 2. Are all of the boys and girls ready?"

_"Affirmative, ma'am. We appreciate your arrival to support." _

Not that much choice had been given to her. Technically, she was only surpassed in rank by Gaeros, and the combined vote of all other officers in the New Air-Army.

With that framework set, the Northern Ices awaited.

It had taken her wing three hours to cover the distance to the North over the oceans that flanked around Democratic Realm territory, and now, as the weather around them grew thick with snow, and gray and black in color, Susynth was beginning to already regret this.

Outside the right of her cockpit, thirty SpeedHawks flanked beside her in pairs of fours, and to the left, ten WhirlRaven bombercraft traveled.

They were immense ships, with bulbous bodies, and long wings each set with three rotors on their tops.

"Squadron 2, any sight of the rig?" She asked into the VOX.

_"Negati- Wait, yep I got it."_

No sooner had the pilot addressed spoken, did the first of their comrades make the ultimate sacrifice of conflict.

One of the SpeedHawks in the direct center of the right formation, an ace, by the looks of markings about its hull, images of tornados and Skyfolk symbols of wind, vanished in a plume of glowing orange for a split-second, before reappearing as mangled, gliding pile of flaming scrap.

The ship had a boring hole directly in its frontal nose that came out raggedly of its rear tail area, and it made a hideous screech as it plummeted out of sight, and into the clouds below.

"Evasive counters, NOW." She snapped into her helm, slamming the controls backwards, and pressing into her seat as her SpeedHawk zoomed above the rest of the squadron.

All it took was a second for the entire wing to split in every direction, and scatter like aerial ants.

Puffs of black dotted the air around them, and it was obvious anti-air flak was upon them.

"Anyone, confirm location of enemy fire?"

_"Straight ahead of us! Straight ahead of us, damn it!" _

"It can't be coming from the rig, pilot!"

_"Clouds as my damned witness, its OUR ammunition I'm seeing!"_

That wasn't possible, she thought. How would the rig's defenders mistake her squadron for Snow-Huns?

Her answer was given when the gray parted before her craft, and the views of unspeakably-tall mountains invaded the backdrop, and the metal, square structure of the rig blotched in a clearing of the rock-formations.

Black pillars of soot rose in many portions of the facility, and even some of the stilts that kept it from crashing to the jagged formations below were on fire.

Flashes of gunfire, muzzle-bursts of heavy, vehicle-mounted weaponry, and dull explosions from most likely grenades and anti-tank rifles, scoured over the center of the rig, the right half of the Skyfolk base absent of any incoming fire directed at them.

That was when she gathered the true situation here.

At the left portion of the base, where the most fires and smoke were, the several defense towers and guns that gridded the platform's sides were blaring full-auto in her wing's direction. Even from a distance as this, she could see the hulking, barbarous bodies of bellowing Snow-Huns running like vermin around them.

"Son of a BITCH!" She cried, jerking her plane away from a tri-burst of flak. "Their using our own guns on us!"

_"Squadron 1! I've lost ten boys, you hear?"_

"TEN?!"

_"Ten ma'am, we're pulling back! Notifying the bombers now."_

She might have agreed, and proceeded to veer away from the doomed rig, had her craft not violently rocked, and near nose-dived to the mountains.

She cursed, and struggled with the controls, and, as she retained aerial stability, she saw just what falling object had caused her craft's spasm.

Susynth needed only to see four of the WhirlRavens raining in pieces to the mist below them, to get the message the bomber squadron was gone.

"Squadron 2, just go! Bombers are in hell!"

Nothing.

Just static.

She heard muffled explosions, tearing of steel, an occasional cry of screaming, burning hulks of dead aircraft.

Nothing left to lose now, if she tried to turn, she was dead, if she tried to dive or evade, she was dead.

Susynth growled when the triggers on her control stick were yanked down by her finger, and three of the Skyfolk anti-air emplacements, now defiled and utilized by the Huns, vanished in up-kicks of black-hugged fire.

That gave her some satisfaction.

But them, alarms blared, and her SpeedHawk jerked worse than it had at any point throughout the mission.

A quick glance out the side of her cockpit told her with so much empty space in her view, that a shot had blown her left wing off clean. She tightened her helmet.

No getting out of this crash.

The SpeedHawk barrel rolled once, and began to scream amid its plummet. Only, it did not meet its, and her final resting place in the frozen rocks under the rig.

Another flak shell ripped off her ship's tail before it could miss the platform, and her plane summer-salted in response, it flipped like a flapjack onto the deck of the structure, skidded into a ruined shack, crushed it, and grew still.

The Huns assumed the worst with elongated grins, and went back to besieging the rig's defenses with their new, stolen toys.

-0-0-0-0-0-


End file.
